“Lord Angus, would you mind showing me these alchemical masterpieces of yours?”

Sylvia watched the old man before her—his eyes briefly alight with vigor, then furrowed in suspicion. She knew Angus was already wrestling with doubts: was she truly a mole?

This was a good start. She had to seize it.

“Please, come in, Archangel.”

After a tense internal struggle, Angus’s decades-long thirst for knowledge won out. He stepped aside, eager to see which reagents the Archangel held in such high regard.

Seeing him yield, Sylvia’s heart leaped. *He’s hooked.*

*Could showcasing the highest-tier alchemy from the original story turn him right now?*

Without waiting for an introduction, she stepped into the lavishly decorated lab and began examining the reagent shelves with quiet focus.

After all, crafting the pinnacle alchemical formula required rare high-tier reagents as base ingredients—no simple feat.

“Archangel… are you also well-versed in alchemy?”

One glance at Sylvia’s composed, analytical expression was enough. Angus’s suspicion shifted to awe. Only a true alchemy master could remain so calm amid this spectrum of volatile, vividly colored reagents. Instinctively, his tone grew reverent.

“Just a little…” Sylvia replied modestly. Admitting total ignorance would raise flags; boasting would seem arrogant. Extreme humility was safest.

“Hmm… Would the Archangel like me to explain these reagents’ effects?”

Watching her scan the shelves, Angus assumed his self-taught creations were too obscure. He offered help—his emotions tangled between pride and uncertainty.

“No trouble at all, Lord Angus. I’ve already found several that caught my eye.”

Having scrutinized every high-tier reagent, Sylvia marveled at his resourcefulness. Some materials were nearly impossible to obtain even in the original story. *How did a minor city lord gather these? Do humans here simply not value alchemy?*

Still pondering, she walked to a specific shelf and carefully lifted a few bottles.

Angus’s eyes widened. *She chose those?*

These were his rarest successes—accidental fusions from years ago, now irreplaceable due to lost materials. *She recognized them…*

Heart racing, he stepped closer to the workbench.

“Lord Angus, may I attempt to fuse these?”

Sensing his tension, Sylvia asked gently. In the original story, she’d fused reagents via screen with timing aids. Doing it barehanded? One slip meant failure. And for the highest tier, *any* slip was fatal.

“Uh…” Angus hesitated. He knew fusion demanded sacrifice. But curiosity crushed reluctance. He gave a slow nod.

“Then I begin. Please watch closely, Lord Angus.”

Relieved, Sylvia silently recited the formula. She poured the red reagent first. Then the dark blue—drop by drop, watching the color shift.

She’d done this countless times in-story. Yet now, sweat beaded on her brow. Twice, her hands nearly faltered.

Beside her, Angus stood rigid. He finally understood her warning: changes happened in milliseconds. A blink meant ruin.

As she paused—*the critical moment*—his pulse hammered.

*Five seconds…*

The final reagent could only be added after exactly five seconds. Without the original formula, how many resources would that single step waste?

No room for error now.

Magic-aided countdown complete, she began pouring.

Drop… by… drop…

The murky green mixture slowly whitened.

Then cleared.

Crystal clear.

*Success!*

Staring at the flawless, transparent liquid, Sylvia barely stifled a joyful cry.